


God, It Weighed A Ton

by LittleDisAwesome



Series: These Times Are Changing [2]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Amputee Bucky Barnes, Deaf Clint Barton, Developing Relationship, Discussions of War, Gay Bucky Barnes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Matt Fraction Hawkeye - Freeform, Modern Bucky Barnes, Musician Bucky Barnes, Not Movie Clint, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:24:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17492129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDisAwesome/pseuds/LittleDisAwesome
Summary: The war had taken Bucky's arm, that didn't happen without some trauma. He knew that. "You don't have to be ashamed of that. You know that right?"Clint and Bucky talk about the past and trauma.





	God, It Weighed A Ton

**Author's Note:**

> See the end note if you want to know about the suicide tags.

Clint watched as Bucky ran his pen over a sheet of paper. He brow was furrowed, and his lips were moving, but none of the sounds made it to Clint's ears. His hearing aids were on, but Bucky seemed to be speaking to himself.

"Are you okay?" He asked, cringing at how loud the words seemed to his own ears when he broke the silence.

Bucky looked up, jumping slightly as though he had forgotten Clint was in his apartment. It was the first time he'd seen Bucky focused on something the way he had been. "Just, you know, writing. Songs, I guess."

That made sense. Bucky's song came from somewhere, it wasn't as though they just appeared. They'd only been messing around for a couple of weeks; he hadn't seen everything about Bucky's life. "Want to take a break and get some coffee?" Gentle. Not bringing attention to the fact that he could tell the songwriting wasn't going well. 

Bucky's knuckles turned white around the pencil before he dropped it. "Yeah. The label wouldn't let us record this anyway." He shrugged and slid the paper over to Clint.

He took it into his hands and looked down at what Bucky had started writing.

_I can still taste the powder_  
From the barrel of my gun  
I can hear my Sergeant screaming,  
"Run, Soldier, run."  
I can feel the backpack on my shoulders  
God, it weighed a ton  
I see death in every single thought  
They taught me how to put that uniform on  
I just can't get it off

He traced over the words with his finger, "this is how you feel?" he asked. Bucky had let him read it, that meant he was allowed to ask, he thought. He'd messed up less tentative relationships by thinking though.

"Sometimes," Bucky shrugged his eyes on Clint's hand, "it's, I don't know. Somedays I'm good, some days I feel like that." He kept his gaze down and reached out for the sheet. 

Clint handed it back to him, not sure how he should proceed. It made sense. The war had taken Bucky's arm, that didn't happen without some trauma. He knew that. "You don't have to be ashamed of that. You know that right?"

Bucky shrugged again. Clint couldn't say anything without being a hypocrite, he knew that, but Bucky deserved better than that. Deserved better than Clint did. "Let's go get that coffee, yeah?" The grin didn't feel real, but Clint knew better than to say anything about it.

They would get there.

Two weeks in and Clint was pretty sure he was in it for the long haul. Weird.

(He hadn’t even planned for the long term two of the times he’d been married.)

"Can I ask how you lost your hearing?" Bucky asked as Clint stood up from the table. Like he hadn't just opened up about his PTSD. Clint recognized it for what it was, though, Bucky wanted to change topics. And he could comply.

"This is going to sound like I'm making it up, but I swear I'm not." He had to preface what he was going to tell Bucky. If he just came out with it then there was a real risk Bucky would think he was trying to take the piss. Because it was ridiculous. "A clown stabbed me in the ears with arrows as revenge for robbing the circus."

Bucky furrowed his brow, his eyes darkening.

"Katie-Kate and I went to the circus," he continued before Bucky could react further, "I recognized the training, and realized it was a scam. Kate and I took their money and crippled the leader, it's a long story." He sighed and checked his pockets for his debit card. "The circus always comes back though."

Bucky chuckled a bit and took Clint's hand into his own - it made Clint's stomach turn into knots when Bucky did this; knowing he was giving up his only hand so they could hold hands. "That's insane."

"When it happened they said 80% hearing loss, but it's gotten worse since then. It's probably closer to 90% now." He'd adapted. Not being able to hear had made him a better shot anyway. It just irritated the team when he did go out with them. It gave them a reason to leave him at home.

He tugged on Bucky's hand slightly, guiding him towards the front door of Bucky's apartment (small and paid for mostly out of his measly disability check). "Don't worry about my ears. I can hear you just fine thanks to Stark Tech." He tapped one of the purple ear hooks. “Technically illegal Stark Tech, so we don’t talk about it.”

Apparently, they’d bypassed some laws to get Clint hooked up. Eventually plenty of people would have aids just like them. Tony would make it happen. Medical devices were supposed to go through extensive testing before being given to humans. They hadn’t electrocuted him or caused any damage, so it was probably fine.

The corner of Bucky’s lips ticked upwards. “Only Hawkguy, yeah?" 

“Coulda happened to any idiot who tried to stop being a carnie.” He grinned, swinging their linked hands between them. He took a step towards the front door, Bucky followed without hesitation.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I’m sure there’s plenty of people out there who took arrows to the ears.”

“I know there’s at least a whole one other person who lost their hearing in a very similar way. He was stabbed in the ear by a former-carnie turned superhero.” Using his free hand he tugged open Bucky’s front door and waved at the old man across the hall. The old man had become Bucky’s nemesis from what he’d heard. He slammed the door every time he closed it; loud enough that Clint noticed even when his hearing aids were off. 

(Clint had rolled out of bed naked, in search of his bow, the first time it had happened while he had been staying over. He had been certain they were under attack.

Bucky had told him to come back to bed, breath shaky. And when Clint finally got back into bed he noticed that Bucky’s heartrate was through the roof.

Clint wanted to beat the shit out of that old man.)

“Good morning, Mr. Johnson,” Bucky smiled at the old man, leaning into Clint’s arm, “just taking the boyfriend out for a stroll. You know how they get.”

Mr. Johnson scoffed, turning his key. He pushed his door open and stepped inside. The door slammed behind him. Even though Bucky had surely been expecting it, he still jumped at the sound.

Clint pulled Bucky’s door shut, turning around so he could lock the door behind them. When Natasha finally caught up with him she was going to lose her mind when she heard they had already shared keys with each other. “That guy is such a dick.”

Bucky shrugged, “Management says he’s not actually doing anything wrong. Some people just close the door loudly.”

With a frown, Clint checked the door to make sure it was locked and then turned around.

___

"Why are you thinking about all of this right now?" Clint asked, running a hand down Bucky's thigh, "did something happen?" The benefit of being the least popular Avenger was that the chances were minimal that someone would recognize them.

"I've got to go to a funeral this weekend." Bucky sat his hand on top of Clint's, his eyes locked on his coffee mug, "he made it home but didn't make it out, I guess.” He shrugged. “I don’t think about doing that, just so know you.” He tightened his grip on Clint’s hand, still not looking up. “I’ve got plenty to live for, I think. It’s just a hard change.”

With a wry smile, Bucky pulled his hand back and reached out to grab his coffee. Clint understood the feeling though. He was always weird right after he got back from work, and that was nothing like spending years in a war.

“I’m not going to a VA shrink though. Fuck those guys.”

Clint couldn’t fault him there. He’d never gone to a SHIELD therapist. Or any therapist. “You know what you need best.”

Bucky drained his cup of coffee and sat the mug back on the table. His shoulders were hunched over and he had sunk into the seat as low as he could. “I don’t want to go, but I was his sergeant. He dragged me out when-” he motioned to his shoulder. 

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“Not right now. I just have to do it.” He turned to look at Clint, still frowning, and sighed. “Will you come with me?”

That had been unexpected. He nodded his head, rubbing Bucky’s thigh again. “Of course. I’ll go anywhere you ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song Bucky was writing is A Soldier's Memoir (PTSD Song) by Joe Bachman. It's one of my favorite songs. 
> 
> A soldier Bucky knew ended his life, making making Bucky feel down. He doesn't contemplate suicide and neither does Clint.


End file.
